<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>ruthless by ObilyWobily</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25674958">ruthless</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/ObilyWobily/pseuds/ObilyWobily'>ObilyWobily</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>EXO (Band), SHINee</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Bottom Lee Taemin, Emptiness, Intense, M/M, Mentioned Kim Jonghyun, Mentioned Lee Jinki | Onew, Smut, Top Kim Jongin | Kai, and it's emotional and hurts but it helps, jongin and taemin are boyfriends, jongin knows he has to try to make it better, so they have sex, taemin and jonghyun are also boyfriends, taemin is heartbroken and mourning jonghyun, taemin is polyamorous</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-08-02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-08-02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 05:01:38</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,954</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25674958</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/ObilyWobily/pseuds/ObilyWobily</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Jongin stayed where he was, allowing Taemin to remain on the bed, propped up on his elbows, watching Jongin, and he began to pull his t-shirt from his jeans, slowly revealing his skin inch by inch, while never breaking eye-contact with Taemin. His shirt fell to the floor and Taemin's eyes remained on him. Jongin hadn't known that it would work--not much had been able to keep Taemin's attention lately--but apparently what Jongin was doing now was doing something. And when Jongin's hands found the edges of his pants, undid his belt, the button, the zip, Taemin kept looking. It was like every one of Jongin's actions was filled with the potential of doing something. </p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Kim Jonghyun/Lee Taemin, Kim Jongin | Kai/Lee Taemin</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>5</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>24</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>ruthless</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Fair warning, this story includes the mention of Jonghyun's death and revolves around Taemin's pain after losing him. I don't mean any disrespect with this. I love Jonghyun, I love Taemin, I love SHINee, deeply. I wrote this to explore the psychology of loss, and how it can be very complex.</p><p>If you think you might not like this, or might not want to read this, then please don't! I understand that this isn't for everyone! &lt;3</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Jongin had never seen Taemin like this before. Well, that wasn't quite true. Moments like this had happened, but they'd always have passed the next day, but now... now they weren't. And Jongin knew, but was afraid to admit, why. Because it broke his heart and Jongin couldn't cope with the fact that he couldn't, knew he could never, fix it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But he could try. He could do his best to fill that gap. No, not the gap, but the emptiness it had left, even if just for a moment, a few hours, so Taemin could forget. And perhaps Jongin needed it too, because the pain was getting too much now. It was everywhere, like Jonghyun dying had caused everything else to cave in all around it. Jongin hadn't seen any colour in weeks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He arrived unannounced, but knew that he'd be welcome anyway. Anything was, at this point, Jongin believed. They needed the distraction, all of them did. "Hey you." Jinki's arms wrapped around him as he stepped into the hallway and he squeezed him back, tightly. "Can I get you anything? Tea?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He would, but not now. There was no time for it now. "Later? I think I should go straight to Taeminie." Jinki understood--of course he did--and it brought a smile to his face. Jongin had come here loyally, every single day, every moment that they'd asked for him, or not asked. He made sure to bring them food, to tidy up around the house when they couldn't. He would do whatever they needed, but right now he had to do what Taemin needed. He would try.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He walked up the stairs. Jinki had motioned that that was where he would be and Jongin expected it. His stomach was full of nerves, inevitably. The situation was vulnerable and Jongin was aware that this could go both ways, but weeks had passed, the worst of the shock had settled--they'd all made that clear--but the void remained and it seemed like it only got larger, the emptiness more consuming every day. Jongin had to give him something now, and not just his loyal companionship of being by his side, of holding him, caring for him. No, he needed to... provide, even if he knew he could never, ever, come close to what they'd had. He wasn't supposed to. But there was something more. Sex never worked like that for Jongin. Most of the time he was in it for the other, he didn't let go, not fully, he didn't hurt for no reason, he didn't dominate ruthlessly. He wasn't on the same wavelength.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His hands clenched by his sides. He would never pretend to be anything he knew he wasn't and he wasn't going to now. Because he too felt like he needed it, not just for Taemin. He was angry too, about everything that had happened, angry about the void in Taemin's eyes, angry at </span>
  <em>
    <span>him</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He pushed the door open leading to Taemin's bedroom without knocking. It wouldn't matter what he would observe once on the inside, because this was about something else. This wasn't about giving, this was about taking, no matter how unnatural it was to him. There was something that Taemin had that he needed. Closeness... someone to endure him. He'd never wanted to let go, but he did now.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>So it didn't really matter that Taemin was lying on his back in his bed, dressed in his pyjama pants and a regular t-shirt, half on the blankets, half under, staring at the ceiling. He looked towards the door, slightly startled, as it opened, and then he pushed himself up on his elbows. There was a moment's hesitance in Jongin's step while he focused on the vulnerability visible in Taemin's eyes, but then he stepped forward. It didn't matter if this would hurt, because Taemin could handle it. That was the whole point.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They looked at one another from across the room after Jongin had shut the door behind him, and there was something in Taemin's eyes which was unlike anything he'd seen before. Longing, desperation, </span>
  <em>
    <span>hope... </span>
  </em>
  <span>but then there was something else too: recognition. What Jongin was doing wasn't an act. He wasn't playing a part. He was finding the part of himself, the animal, that needed this. What he'd realised was that in times like this, it was easier to find.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jongin stayed where he was, allowing Taemin to remain on the bed, propped up on his elbows, watching Jongin, and he began to pull his t-shirt from his jeans, slowly revealing his skin inch by inch, while never breaking eye-contact with Taemin. His shirt fell to the floor and Taemin's eyes remained on him. Jongin hadn't known that it would work--not much had been able to keep Taemin's attention lately--but apparently what Jongin was doing now was doing something. And when Jongin's hands found the edges of his pants, undid his belt, the button, the zip, Taemin kept looking. It was like every one of Jongin's actions was filled with the potential of </span>
  <em>
    <span>doing something</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was only when he was down to his underwear that he stepped closer. His movements were slow, controlled--for now--and he found himself thirsty. Taemin was everything he wanted, but he hadn't had Taemin for weeks now, not really. Of course he was thirsty, of course he was longing for him... It might not be the deep, insatiable hunger Taemin and Jonghyun knew, but it was a hunger Taemin seemed to not be able to look away from nonetheless.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jongin's actions were determined as he climbed onto the bed. Jongin had been so careful with him since, but that had perhaps been foolish. Taemin </span>
  <em>
    <span>needed</span>
  </em>
  <span>...</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jongin's hand disappeared up Taemin's shirt, pushing it up his body, forcing his arms up, and then he twisted the shirt until it was tight, trapping Taemin's wrists in the material, easy to pin him down. Taemin's chest wasn't heaving like it normally would be when Jongin would get this close, but his breath was faster, something he hadn't seen like this in too long. Because Jongin hadn't even tried, hadn't attempted anything like this. How could he, when Taemin was hurting?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He rid Taemin of his pants first and his underwear second, exposing him without hesitating, and Jongin's free hand slipped between Taemin's legs. He groped one of his buttocks, squeezing tightly, pinching his flesh hard. Taemin's lips parted, not in a gasp or a moan, but they parted. Taemin was responding to him. Jongin could do this. He just had to feel, had to let go, and had to stop thinking about what would work and what wouldn't. He just had to do it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jongin looked down into Taemin's eyes and for the first time in weeks, he didn't look into them with fear. It had hurt so much to see it all, the hurt, but he didn't fear it now he knew that he was going to do something, just </span>
  <em>
    <span>something</span>
  </em>
  <span>, to take that pain away for a few minutes at a time. So he looked, saw the pain, and looked. It wasn't okay and he would never say that it was, nor was he going to say that it wouldn't stay, because he knew Taemin, he'd feel this pain for the rest of his life. "So pretty." Because he was. That's what he saw. Not </span>
  <em>
    <span>through </span>
  </em>
  <span>all the vulnerability and the pain. No, the vulnerability and the pain </span>
  <em>
    <span>was </span>
  </em>
  <span>beautiful.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He leaned down, pressing his lips to Taemin's. He accepted it. He accepted the firmness of the kiss, lips parting to allow even more, and Jongin felt heat surge through his body. He hadn't had this, hadn't seen or felt this part of Taemin at all, and it had him press his fingers between Taemin's buttocks and against his entrance. He wasn't going to ask, or beg, for anything. He was going to take what he wanted, what he needed. He needed Taemin.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His teeth sunk into the flesh of Taemin's plump lower lip. Perfect, soft, and it had him moan around the flesh. He wanted to hear something, feel some kind of response, just to make sure Taemin was here, alive. Still complete. Well, never that again. So he sunk his teeth in harder until Taemin winced, almost angrily, and then Jongin released the flesh and smothered him in a kiss and felt Taemin's hands tug on the t-shirt wrapped around his wrist. No. He wasn't getting free.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His fingers found Taemin's lips, which were red from having been bitten, and he pushed his fingers between them, rubbing over his tongue. It didn't matter that it was too much, that sex surely wasn't on his mind when he was hurting. Not that this was sex, not really. This was relief, a relief that they both needed. So maybe this had been on Taemin's mind. Things like this were always a cure to him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His tongue replaced his fingers in Taemin's mouth and then his body smothered Taemin's, trapping him between him and the mattress firmly. Claiming him. And his wet fingers pressed between Taemin's buttocks, pushing against the muscle until it gave. Taemin's body was tense and normally Jongin would slow down, but he didn't now. He needed to feel him quiver beneath him, writhe in pain, make </span>
  <em>
    <span>noise</span>
  </em>
  <span>. So he pushed, pressing both fingers in all the way despite the way Taemin's body tensed and tried to pull away. Not that he wanted to get away.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He curled his fingers, pressed his own body down into Taemin's, kissed him deeper. Taemin was gasping while he began to fuck into Taemin, his movements uncareful, but it wasn't good enough. Taemin wasn't losing himself and that was exactly what he wanted, </span>
  <em>
    <span>needed</span>
  </em>
  <span> to see, to feel. So he spread his fingers, stretching him open, before slamming his fingers back inside of him. A hiss and a tug on the t-shirt stuck around Taemin's wrists. It had Jongin pin him down firmer, smother his lips in a firmer kiss, yank Taemin into another position. Legs spread far, Jongin's knee pressing down on Taemin's inner thigh, creating the space Jongin needed to get to him, to do whatever he wanted to him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jongin didn't know what it was about when things happened between Taemin and Jonghyun. He hadn't ever needed to ask, when it had been right there for him to see, to take in. Perhaps it was better that way. He didn't have to compare now, didn't have to stop himself from mimicking the way Jonghyun might have done things. Not that some of it wasn't predictable. Jonghyun was a beast... a ruthless, terrifying animal, and Jongin could never mimic that.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jongin let go of the t-shirt around Taemin's wrist, but left them in the mess, allowing Taemin to get out of it if he wanted to. Not that he wanted to give him the space, the capacity, as his hand tightened around Taemin's jaw and held him tightly while suddenly his fingers moved slowly, fully in control as he fucked his fingers into Taemin with precision. One attempt, another, then another and, finally, the fourth had Taemin's eyes flutter and his back arch. The reaction was minimal. It could have been a scream if he wasn't numb already. So he did it again and again and again. Movement slow, precise, and Taemin lied there with his legs spread, taking it, breath becoming heavier, gasps becoming whimpers, then moans as Jongin's pace sped up. He was taking every single noise from him and every time he fucked his fingers into Taemin, the grip on his jaw seemed to increase. Break. He needed to see him break, or </span>
  <em>
    <span>something</span>
  </em>
  <span>. He couldn't unclench his jaw. He needed something, and he needed it now.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A low, frustrated growl left his lips and he yanked on Taemin's jaw, an attempt to shake him through, and then his fingers increased in speed and all patience--although he didn't know for what--seemed to leave him. He fucked hard, fast, fingers destroying Taemin from the inside. This wasn't sex. He knew it wasn't sex because it didn't feel like it. His thrusts weren't there to give him something, they were there to make him scream, to break a part of Taemin, or to take something, claim something from him. It was aggressive. It was ruthless. And even though it was just his fingers, Taemin was responding as if it was much more. It was. It was much more.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His hand smacked across Taemin's face as Jongin pulled his fingers from his body and he left him empty for just a second, hands not on Taemin at all. He watched the aftermath, the suffering. "</span>
  <em>
    <span>Pretty</span>
  </em>
  <span>." And then his hands were on Taemin's thighs, pulling them apart, moving his body like Taemin had no will of his own, and then he was pushing into him. No time to waste. Taemin's body squirmed, protested. He gasped. No, he </span>
  <em>
    <span>wheezed </span>
  </em>
  <span>and choked on the air he got right as Jongin filled him. Tearing Taemin apart had never been his place, nor his job, but he could feel the desire now, and the necessity, and the... attraction of it. Of course. Of course of course of course. He had just needed to get... inspired.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Taemin writhed. Jongin's fingertips were leaving white marks behind where he squeezed and pressed. Jongin held Taemin's thighs spread, hooking his arms behind his knees in a grip firmer he'd ever taken Taemin before. Too angry not to want to squeeze every single noise out of him. Every moan, every scream, every gasp, every choke.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His thrusts were rough, ruthless. He was pounding into Taemin's body, knocking the air out with every other thrust and wrecking him in the way he needed. He needed to see Taemin's gaze disappear, and not for the reason that it had these past weeks. No, stars had to be filling them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jongin was digging his teeth into his own bottom lip, body tense with the </span>
  <em>
    <span>need </span>
  </em>
  <span>to just fucking </span>
  <em>
    <span>take </span>
  </em>
  <span>him. Anger, but not anger. Passion, but too uncontrolled for that. Or perhaps that was exactly what made it passion. He just needed to hear him scream, explode, tear apart. Taemin tugged on the shirt around his wrist, pulled his hands to his own chest now he knew they didn't have to be kept above his head. Jongin pounded into him, his thrusts coming almost like thumps, like he was trying to beat something out of him while fucking him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A hand released Taemin's thigh and clasped around his jaw instead. Tightly, so tight Taemin winced, whined, then mewled as the hand released and disappeared into Taemin's hair instead, tugging hard. Taemin's hands shot up then, and the t-shirt still knotted around Taemin's wrists hooked around the back of Jongin's neck. And then he tugged, and Jongin came forward, pressed closer to Taemin and Taemin spread his legs further, suddenly pushed his hips up hard to meet Jongin halfway, practically screaming as he did it. Again and again and again. Jongin understood.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And then he pulled out, unhooking himself from Taemin, who </span>
  <em>
    <span>growled </span>
  </em>
  <span>in response, so loud it was almost a scream, but Jongin didn't care. Taemin wanted more? He needed more to scream? Then Jongin would fucking show him. He would show him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He pushed hard, forcing Taemin onto his front, putting more weight than he needed to on Taemin's back to keep him down. He wanted Taemin to feel the threat, after all. And that he did, as he squirmed, gasped, and then half choked as Jongin filled him from behind while not allowing Taemin the air he needed to cope. Good. Good. Let him go dizzy, let him </span>
  <em>
    <span>feel</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Arms wrapped around Taemin's torso as he pulled him back onto his hands and knees. Not that Taemin had the strength to keep himself up... so instead Jongin held him, grip too tight to allow Taemin enough air, and then he began to pound him. He got deeper now, and Taemin wasn't getting any air anymore. He was choking on the cock that was filling him and the man that was taking him. Jongin wouldn't allow him to breathe. Not when his choking sounded so... "</span>
  <em>
    <span>Pretty</span>
  </em>
  <span>..."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His grip tight and his thrusts ruthless, breath fast. He wasn't trying to fuck Taemin, he was trying to kill him. He wasn't letting go, after all. Not even when Taemin's gasps and chokes became louder, more panicked, but so were his moans. Louder, louder, louder. Screams, mixed with Taemin slamming his hips back every now and then. Taken. Taken.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jongin pressed Taemin's face into the mattress, smothering him, and his grip on Taemin's body was so tight he wouldn't be able to go anywhere. Trapped. So vulnerable he must feel. So stuck. Jongin continued to thrust, taking a little more of him with every one of them, and when he pulled Taemin up for air the sheet beneath was wet. Tears, drool, it didn't matter. Jongin had him, he had him now. Jongin's hand pressed between Taemin's legs, pulling a scream from Taemin's lips. He went tense in Jongin's arms, even though Jongin wasn't even moving his hand. Murder. That's what this felt like.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Choked sobs filled the room, both as Taemin spilled into Jongin's hand, all the way until Jongin spilled into him. But it only made the sobs louder. Louder and louder until he was screaming, trapped wrists clasping hold of the pillow, his wails screamed into them. And Jongin took him, differently now. Hands wiping his hair from his face and coming close, holding him tightly as Taemin cried. And cried. And cried.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
</body>
</html>